


You Have in a Common Cause Fought and Triumphed Together

by babykid528, thatmysticbafflingwonder (babykid528)



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [27]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Sign Language, Established Relationship, Law School, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sharing Clothes, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/babykid528, https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/thatmysticbafflingwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The 3Ls are all assembled in the auditorium – all two-hundred forty-three of them. By Ivy standards, the class may seem small, but, in the twenty years George has been doing this teaching and Dean thing, it’s one of the best classes he’s ever had the pleasure to meet.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Have in a Common Cause Fought and Triumphed Together

**Author's Note:**

> Anon requested clothes sharing in the non-sexual intimacy prompt meme, so y'all get another Whamilton Law School AU one-shot. (I will get to the actual longfic if I ever finish these prompts, lol! XD I'm excited people want more!! <333)

The 3Ls are all assembled in the auditorium – all two-hundred forty-three of them. By Ivy standards, the class may seem small, but, in the twenty years George has been doing this teaching and Dean thing, it’s one of the best classes he’s ever had the pleasure to meet.

He’s definitely biased, especially when Alex is sitting somewhere amongst them, there’s no use denying that, but he’s also sure his beliefs are true: this class is brimming with promise. Their school may be small, it may not be considered the kind of name-brand school that will send it’s students straight to the highest billing, hundred-member firms in the city, but these people… these people will change the world.

Alex used to roll his eyes when George said things like that. A long, dramatic, eye-roll that, as juvenile as it was, never ceased to make George laugh. Alex doesn’t do that eye-roll any more, though. George isn’t sure if he should count that as a win – if he should consider Alex convinced – or if his boy is just too fond to tease him anymore. Either way, George knows he’s right: these young people are going to make all of the difference, and soon.

As he walks up to the podium, ready to make his pre-graduation rehearsal speech, he scans the crowd. It’s only been three years – a little less than – and George can still see a drastic difference in the crowd. Gone are the fresh-faced, worried, awe-struck, newly admitted 1Ls, and, in their places sit some of the most stressed-out, weary, 3L faces he has ever seen. Sure, they have been through the ringer, and they still have more hoops through which to jump before they are finished, but beneath the exhaustion he notes markedly more confident, determined, understanding expressions. These people came here, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and they will leave here more aware, minds opened, and ready to fight for the people who most need it.

He takes a breath, readies himself to speak, to quiet the crowd, when he catches a glimpse of Alex, somehow zeroing in his attentions on his boy, despite the large crowd. He’s leaning over, listening to something Mr. Lafayette is whispering to Mr. Laurens and Ms. Schuyler, but he’s looking directly at George. He blushes, or George imagines he blushes, and a sheepish smile spreads across his face when George’s eyes meet his. George isn’t sure, exactly, what his reaction means, and then his gaze is drawn to Alex’s hand, smoothing the lines of the shirt he’s wearing, and George’s breath leaves his lungs in a rush.

His boy is wearing his favorite t-shirt: the one from his college baseball team. The one no one else on the staff or in the school knows he even played for. It’s old, but even now, it’s too big on Alex’s slight frame. The three-quarter length sleeves fall down to Alex’s wrists, the excess of the play-worn fabric folding and pleating around his arms, and the neck dipping lower than it should. Alex moves his hand against his chest again and George blinks, drawn out of his shocked reverie by the motion, and looks back at Alex’s face.

Alex continues to watch him, gaze weighted, as he draws George’s attention back to his hand again. George shifts his focus and takes a fraction of a moment for the symbol Alex is flashing him to register in his mind – thumb, forefinger, little finger extended; ring and middle bent toward his palm. The direction of the gesture is backwards, palm pressed to Alex’s chest, but George understands what is being said. He swallows against the lump building in his throat and dips his chin, averting his gaze toward his own hands. He balls them into fists, thumbs extended, and presses the flats of his fingers together so his knuckles are pressed flush. He brings his thumbs down, then extends them again, before bringing them back down to his hands.

When he looks up, Alex’s eyes, always so expressive, have gone soft. His boy nods once, sharply, and then turns his attentions back to his friends before they can notice anything strange going on between him and the Dean. George watches him a moment longer before dropping his own gaze and his hands back to the podium, his heart racing and full of a deep, ever-growing adoration.

When he looks up again, he sweeps his gaze around the room once more, noting how no one has seemed to take notice of the private exchange that just passed before them. Satisfied, he clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. They quiet almost instantly, all turning their focus to their Dean.

“Good afternoon,” George says, voice solid, not betraying his tender emotions in the slightest. “I know that all of you have finals to prepares for and papers to write, so I will be brief.”

A large portion of those assembled chuckle at that last statement and George doesn’t hesitate to join them.

“Yes, the man of few words will give just a few more.”

Everyone joins in the laughter at that. He takes note of the way their expressions change as a small amount of the tension they have been carrying for months leaves their shoulders. George has never been so proud of them, as a collective unit, than he is in this moment, hearing the evidence that, despite it all, they have retained their ability to at least laugh. Yes, their school may not be Harvard or Yale, but they work hard, they work with passion, and the work that they do, the work these people will really begin to do once they leave here, that will be important. He’s going to be sure to tell them all of that at their actual graduation, but he holds his tongue today. He still has a little time with them before they will be gone. He pointedly does not glance at Alex again before he gets back to the short words he prepared for the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Alex signs "I love you," backwards.  
> George signs back "sweetheart."
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr [[here](http://thatmysticbafflingwonder.tumblr.com)]!


End file.
